


Marked

by megahypno



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megahypno/pseuds/megahypno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>most of this was written in 2014, and slightly edited so post here so i don't feel bad about deleting the draft.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. It Didn't Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelicPretty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicPretty/gifts).



Sometimes when he was younger, when he couldn’t sleep at night, he’d stare at the name on his arm and try to imagine them. It was hard to believe at the time that the jumble of letters on his flesh, tattooed there since birth actually belonged to a real person. It didn’t matter much, this day in age people who didn’t have the right names got together all the time. His parents hadn’t. At that thought he scoffed.

_Yeah. And look how well that turned out._

But the letters on his forearm had always been a minor fascination. When he was little, people would marvel at the name, telling him that she sounded beautiful. As he grew older, he began to wonder if the name could even belong to a girl. After a while he just stopped asking the people he took home for their names. It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, until the day he turned on the tv and the name on his flesh fell from the lips of his former bandmate, playing to a crowd of hundreds of thousands.

He drank. He drank until he was liable to forget his own fucking name.

It had to be a coincidence, right? There was no way, even after everything that he’d gone through, he couldn’t believe that fate would fuck him over like this. But how many people in the world could possibly have that name? He slammed the glass of bourbon down against the table, tipping most of it over the lip and letting it spill over his hand and trickle down his wrist. Laying his head against the cool wood, hot tears began to well in his good eye.

It wasn’t enough that they’d gone on to fame and fortune without him, it wasn’t enough that they’d replaced him and ruined his entire goddamn life. No, his replacement had to be his fucking soulmate. His _other half_. The words alone made him feel like retching, though that could also have been the whiskey sloshing around in his empty stomach.

Soulmates were supposed to complete you, make you more than you ever thought you could be. Unite two halves into a whole, join two minds and bodies into one entity. He swallowed the lump that was forming in the back of his throat with another gulp of bourbon and tried to quell the fear and anxiety that was threatening to rise up and wrap itself around his neck.

The one thing in his life that he could always dream about, even when things looked their darkest, was the name seared into his arm.

And Dethklok had to fucking take that from him too.


	2. Into The Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> most of this was written in 2014, and slightly edited so post here so i don't feel bad about deleting the draft.

The first time he met the assassin, he was holed up in the back of the local bar, wringing the last drops out of his fifth shot of vodka and his pocketbook. He hadn’t played a gig in weeks and between the cigarettes, the rent, and the questionably obtained Ambien, his financial situation wasn’t looking the greatest. That was what had prompted him to pay a visit to the Depths of Humanity in the first place, but now that he was here his situation had only improved from a psychological standpoint and even then just barely.

His gaze moved to the empty shot in his hand. In its warped refractions, he could see every corner of the slowly emptying tavern. Three AM was nearing now, and staying until the last second was a good way to get on the bartender’s bad side. Magnus shifted a little, still watching the room though the glass lens, trying to decide if he had enough money for a cab or if he should just take the 45 minute walk back to the apartment.

It was easy to miss the clinging scent of wet earth and decay seeping into the room, mixing with the already ponderous stink of alcohol and sweat. In fact, if he hadn’t been watching his shot glass he probably never would have noticed anything different about his surroundings. But in the spiraling reflections of the tumbler, a spectral figure loomed just over his shoulder. Pale and silent as the grave, its shape seemed to tremble and shimmer in the glass.

Slowed reflexes and a week’s worth of sleepless nights froze Magnus’s blood as he braced himself for the cold kiss of death itself. _No._ _Not yet_ , he pleaded silently and this thought surprised him.

_I want to live._

He turned to face the spectre and found he’d been slightly mistaken about its nature. Instead of some ethereal being, this man-- if he could be called one-- resembled something akin to a reanimated corpse.

Chalk white flesh stretched almost to transparency over thick swells of muscle would have made this hulking monster seem impressive were it not for the soft, distended skin that hung limply from his face and neck. It gave him the look of someone wearing another’s body rather than living in his own. Thin lips, the color of an old bruise and covered in deep burn scars, pulled back into a snarl over yellowing teeth and swollen gums that looked as though they might burst open if touched. The worst part, though, was his eyes.

Dim, crimson, and pupilless, they peered out from behind his masked face; Tiny cracks in a steely monolith of solid metal. It wasn’t that they looked dead-- indeed--- it was their lifelike quality that scared Magnus the most. That some fragment of a human soul lived in this creature. That was what terrified him.

With more grace than Magnus would have imagined a walking cadaver could possess, the man eased himself into the booth directly across from Magnus with a low grunt. Red slits met mismatched pupils wide with curiosity. Hot, foul breath washed over his face and it took a moment for Magnus to realize he was being spoken to.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh-what?” His voice trembled more than he would have liked. Even with five shots of vodka in him, Magnus was not a brave man.

“I know who you are, Magnus Hammersmith, former member of Dethklok.”

The guitarist tightened his grip on the glass to keep his hand steady, though it no longer shook out of nervousness. Anger overtook fear, loud static hissing in his ears at the mention of the band. His eyes dropped to the table, and it took him a moment to notice he was digging the nails of his free hand into the unvarnished wood.

“Yeah? Well good for-fucking you, you found me. Probably the closest you’ll ever get to meeting them, right? You must be so fucking proud.” He fought to keep his tone level but lost the battle halfway through, his voice cracking towards the end.

Silence stretched between them, a thin membrane barely concealing the tension underneath. The masked man had a different look on his face now. Something adjacent to pity? It was impossible to tell.

The monster’s rumbling voice that he could _feel_ more than he could hear stirred him again, quieter this time, almost consoling.

“I, too, have had something taken from me,” the masked man growled, leaning forward. Magnus felt his breath hitch as the monster edged closer and looked him in the eye. His movement wasn’t urgent the way Magnus’s breathing had become, but there was an undercurrent of desperate fury between the two of them that made Magnus want to reach out and touch the other man’s arm just to see if it would burn.

“Dethklok must be stopped,” he continued. “Join forces with me. Take back what is rightfully yours.”

A million responses rose in his throat, threatening to spill out between his teeth and drown him.

_Who are you?_

_Why should I trust you?_

_Are you fucking insane?_

“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider the fic discontinued. :( sorry yall


End file.
